


paradise

by caseyvalhalla



Series: skyline [2]
Category: Tales of Symphonia
Genre: Developing Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Game Spoilers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 22:43:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5558354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caseyvalhalla/pseuds/caseyvalhalla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zelos knew from the beginning that something about this kid was unreal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	paradise

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion to _sugar_ , although it backtracks rather than being a proper sequel, and also takes everything I already established and makes it angsty. I can't possibly leave things like this, so we'll see what happens. Have some Zelos being a ball of self-loathing.
> 
> Title and quote from "Paradise" by Coldplay

> _when she was just a girl_  
>  _she expected the world_  
>  _but it flew away from her reach_  
>  _and the bullets catch in her teeth_

Snow made the world surreal, and that was only one of the things Zelos hated about it.  The way it muffled sound and made the air glow faintly even after dark, and reflected sunlight harshly during the day.  The world was too quiet with snow on the ground, too bright, and too cold, and he’d spent far too long that day listening to the crunch of his feet trudging through it, cold and quiet seeping into him through skin, flesh and bone and deep into his thoughts until he felt numb, thought maybe he was hallucinating a little bit.

( _Red snow falling_.)

But it turned out the red he was seeing was just Lloyd’s shirt, close because he’d taken hold of his arm at some point, without realizing it.  Lloyd’s sleeve under his fingers.  Lloyd’s gloves as his hands tugged a blanket around Zelos’s shoulders, then grabbed split wood to shove into the pot-bellied stove in a tiny room at the inn Zelos didn’t remember arriving at.

Lloyd tugging off his boots and sword belt once the fire was stoked and climbing into the bundle of blankets with Zelos.

He was _so warm_ , and the contrast to the bone-deep chill possessing him made Zelos shiver violently, wrap both arms around Lloyd as best he could in the blanket tangle and curse vehemently against his shoulder.

Lloyd’s voice rumbled pleasantly through every point of contact between them.  “Oh, are you awake now?”

Zelos’s voice, by contrast, was muffled and vague somewhere in the fabric of Lloyd’s shirt.  “Awake?”

“You weren’t responding to anyone a few minutes ago.”  Lloyd drew the blankets snugly around them both, surprisingly without any of the usual protests (or vague, tolerant grumblings) over Zelos clinging to him.  “I knew something was wrong when you walked right past all the cute housekeepers in the lobby.”

Zelos’s head shot up.  “I did what?”

“There were at least five of them!”  Lloyd was laughing a little, but Zelos found that he didn’t mind so much when Lloyd laughed at him.  The corners of his eyes crinkled up and his teeth showed, and it was kinda cute.   “You didn’t even notice, did you?”

“I can’t believe this.”  Zelos let his head drop back onto Lloyd’s shoulder, partly in defeat but mostly because being snuggled up against him felt comforting, and he smelled nice, a little like the soap he washed his clothes in at the last inn, and a little like skin and apple gels.  “My reputation is tarnished.”

“Well.”  Lloyd tossed out the word casually, a bit more kindly than usual, and the words puffed against Zelos’s bangs.  “The professor said she thought you might be going into… uhh, hypno… what was it, thermic?  Hypothermic shock.”

“That does sound like something Cool Beauty Raine would say.”

Lloyd made a sound in his nose, something like a scoff or a snort but delicate in a way that wasn’t quite derisive enough.  “Anyway, you seem to be okay now.”  He didn’t sound too certain of his own statement, tilting his head awkwardly so he could look Zelos over, eyebrows drawing together, and the way his brown eyes flicked up and down made something squirm in Zelos’s stomach.  “ _Are_ you okay?  You still look really pale.”

The genuine concern made that squirming sensation twist unpleasantly, made Zelos’s mouth go dry, and he could imagine just how their arrival went.  He accepted that he wasn’t well-loved by the party, figured he wasn’t in a position to try and curry any more favor with them than necessary, so it wasn’t surprising that they’d pawned him off on Lloyd to be looked after.  He wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse that Lloyd seemed to like him, sometimes, or at least tolerate him.  On one hand, being in Lloyd’s good graces would give him leverage later on—if not with the party itself, then with one or more of the multiple interests who thought Zelos was their insider, whenever he decided to pull the rug out from under them.

On the other hand, _Lloyd seemed to like him_ , and Zelos wasn’t used to being liked genuinely, by anyone.  The way it made his heart flutter was probably dangerous for both of them.

So he made a low-pitched, thoughtful noise to cover for withdrawing, pulling his arms back and resettling into a position that was less clingy, more casual, close enough to still appreciate Lloyd’s body heat without the embrace or the comfortable pillow his shoulder was providing.  The footboard of the bed was behind them, so he leaned back against that instead.

“Well, I won’t lie—” he was, in fact, lying, “—I’d much rather be wrapped up in a blanket in front of a warm fireplace with one of the girls.  Or all of them.  But since you’re the only one willing to put up with me, I guess I’ll make do.”

“They were actually worried,” Lloyd said, perfectly serious when Zelos looked up at him in disbelief.  “Especially Colette.  Professor Sage said to let her know immediately if you didn’t come around after a few minutes by the stove, and Sheena said she knows the doctor in town and could go get him, too.”

Zelos blinked twice, then drew into himself with a casual shrug.  “Well, isn’t it nice to be so highly regarded?”

“It is.”  Lloyd watched him with that same pinched stare, brow furrowing with increased concern.  “You really think everyone hates you, don’t you?”

“Not at all.  Women everywhere _love_ me.”

“Could you be serious for five seconds?”

“I’m completely serious.”

Lloyd was starting to get frustrated—Zelos could tell because the corner of his mouth was twitching, and he’d clearly spent too much time observing Lloyd to be able to read all of his expressions like this.  “I mean that something was wrong, out there in the snow.  You weren’t… yourself.  I want to know if you’re okay.  And if not, then… if I can help.”

Zelos knew from the beginning that something about this kid was unreal.  He’d thought at first that it was some kind of act, but Lloyd was honestly too simple to be disingenuous.  Watching the way he cared about people was painful.  Watching him care about _Zelos_ was downright unbelievable.  More unbelievable than the rest of the party being concerned about his sorry half-frozen ass, that Lloyd had willfully volunteered to be his caretaker, to be stuck in a tiny room with him and a single bed and a woodburning stove for the night, just so he could find out what was troubling him and give Zelos the opportunity to talk about it without anyone else around.

It was laughable.

So Zelos laughed.  Dialed up the charm because that’s what he did when he needed to diffuse or deflect and now was definitely the time for one of those things.  He wriggled unnecessarily close, teeth bared in an overly bright smile, voice pitched high and desperately irreverent.  “Aww, honey, it’s sweet of you to worry,” he purred, catching Lloyd’s chin between his fingers, and played it like he meant to steal a kiss.

The thing was, Lloyd was supposed to escape.  He was supposed to shove Zelos away, tell him to knock it off, or at the very least tolerate him with a long-suffering sigh and berate him for not knowing when to quit.

He was _not_ supposed to _let_ Zelos kiss him.

He was definitely not supposed to accept the kiss with a surprised hitch of breath, or settle his hands on Zelos’s shoulders, and was _absolutely_ not supposed to tilt his head and sweetly kiss back.

But that was what happened.  And Zelos realized instantly that he had made a profound miscalculation.  A critical, potentially fatal error.

And there was no way in hell he was going to stop.

Lloyd was inexperienced, more hesitant than clumsy, waiting for Zelos’s lips to move before moving with him, learning by example—and that was just like him.  Zelos peeled off his gloves and tossed them aside so he could feel Lloyd’s hair under his fingers, combing back that ridiculous cowlick, palms brushing over his cheeks, and his hands must still have been freezing because Lloyd was burning hot against them, shivering when they trailed down his neck.

The kiss was slow, and it never sped, just gradually increased in intensity; each time their lips caught around each other with a low smack Lloyd’s mouth would open a bit wider, breath mingling damp between them.  Zelos felt himself moving on instinct, dragging Lloyd closer, tugging at the buttons on his coat, ultimately giving up and just digging his hands underneath it until they met warm skin, felt how the muscles beneath his palms tensed and relaxed.

He was surprised to feel bare fingers tracing the edges of his clothing and the key crest on his chest, not sure if the touch felt hot because he was still cold or because he was so hungry for it.  After months on the road without the opportunity to steal much more than a flirtation here and there, Lloyd capturing far too much of his attention, and a long day that drew all of his emotions taut, Zelos needed to be touched—he needed _sex_ , needed to drown himself in the feel of another person, a warm body and intense pleasure, the fleeting sensation of being needed and wanted and not caring about anything beyond the moment.

And Lloyd seemed willing, shivering at each touch, responding to every tug at his hips or his clothes or the pull of teeth at his lips.  He’d shed his coat at some point when Zelos wasn’t paying attention, crawled forward until his knees were pressed on either side of Zelos’s hips, hands pushing the jacket off Zelos’s shoulders, fingers tracing down along the small of his back.  Lloyd’s warmth and weight felt perfect, molded perfectly in the circle of his arms and pressed against his chest and Zelos tilted his head back, brushed his tongue between Lloyd’s lips and felt as much as heard the needy noise in his throat, vibrating through his chest.

He felt _perfect_ , and maybe that was why Zelos didn’t realize, until he broke the kiss to catch his breath, that Lloyd was panting.  He was _shaking_ , hands twitching and clutching at Zelos’s undershirt, strands of hair caught in his fingers, and it finally occurred to Zelos that no one had ever touched him like this before.  No one had ever kissed him like this before—in all likeliness, no one had ever kissed him before _at all_.  And realizing this, watching Lloyd’s eyes crack open, pupils blown, a cruel voice in the back of Zelos’s mind sneered,

_He deserves better than you_.

Despite the impression he deliberately built up around himself, Zelos was no stranger to taking a tumble with some attractive young man or other when the fancy struck; he knew exactly how to handle this situation, was perfectly capable of dragging Lloyd up onto the bed behind them and blowing his mind, making sure nothing hurt and everything felt incredible.  He could sink into the heat of his body and forget himself and everything else and Lloyd would adore him for it, beg him for more.

But.  He deserved, more than anyone Zelos had ever met, probably, to experience that with someone he loved.  Someone who would be able to love him better.  Definitely not with someone who wanted to take comfort in his body for his own selfish reasons, someone who was actively selling him out to the enemy and keeping the wool pulled snugly over his eyes in the guise of _friendship_.

Lloyd deserved better.

And Lloyd was also watching him, breath unsteady, fingers flexing, blinking in confusion at the extended pause.  And Lloyd’s mouth was still close enough to feel his lips forming around the word _more_ , even though the sound of it was barely a whisper.

No one in this world or the other one could possibly say no to that.

There was a plush rug beneath them, spread in front of the stove almost as though to accommodate just this sort of thing, and Lloyd didn’t make any protest at being pushed down onto it, just tugged an uncomfortable fold of blanket out from under his back, hooked one knee around Zelos’s hips, and pulled him back in for a kiss with both hands.  The bulk of Zelos’s hair tumbled off his back almost immediately, and he only paused long enough to pull the mass over one shoulder and twist it around itself a few times before returning all his attention to Lloyd’s mouth and the body pressing into his hands.  He didn’t have a tie handy, and wasn’t about to stop what he was doing to go look for one, or even give it a quick braid.  Not when Lloyd was exhaling heavily against his lips, body arching up off the floor, head dropping back with a rough, almost startled moan when their hips pressed together.

“Shh, honey,” Zelos purred, one arm snaking around the small of Lloyd’s back, adjusting their positions until they lined up just right.  “Not too loud.”

The last thing he wanted was for one of their companions to hear strange noises and come check on them out of misplaced concern and interrupt.  If they did, he might come to his senses and realize what a bad idea this was.  Even with a few layers of clothing still between them—it was distance, Zelos told himself.  A few millimeters of distance, a buffer zone to keep him from getting too close, too intimate.  He told himself this, lips dragging down the curve of Lloyd’s neck, tasting salt and skin, rolling his hips until sparks raced down his spine and Lloyd was shuddering beneath him, panting hot against his ear, fingers tangled in his hair.  The way he felt was perfect—the way he _moved_ was perfect, impossibly good, knotting pleasure in Zelos’s stomach until his mind went white, blank of anything else.

Lloyd was inexperienced, so it made sense for him to get off after a few minutes of rutting on a hard inn floor, body going taut, clinging tight, mouth open around gasps and moans that Zelos muffled with lips and tongue.

Zelos had no excuse.

The only upside to coming in his pants, he thought initially, once the aftershocks had passed and his breath was starting to return to normal—was that Lloyd probably had no idea that was unusual or had any bearing on just how turned on and desperate he was.  Then Lloyd blinked wide brown doe-eyes at him, breath still puffing heavily against his lips, pushing Zelos’s bandanna back off his forehead and combing fingers through Zelos’s bangs slowly, almost reverently, and murmured, “You look incredible like that.”

Zelos felt, abruptly, like he’d been caught in an iron trap—he could hear the vicious _clang_ of metal as it snapped shut and feel the teeth closing around him, biting into his skin.  Fighting off the surge of vulnerability was practically superhuman, considering the immense effort it took to swallow back the feelings that knotted up in his throat and draw the overconfident, self-important mask back into place over his wide-eyed, slack-jawed stare.

“So I’m told,” he drawled, settling into a pleased smirk that felt safer on his face, in that moment, braced on his elbows with his nose bumping against Lloyd’s.  “You’re not so bad yourself.”

The ravished look did suit him—hair mussed even more than usual from Zelos’s fingers, cheeks red, lips swollen, eyes still dark and dilated as he slowly caught his breath.  Lloyd’s stare cut to the side like he was embarrassed to be told so, like he’d never been informed of how attractive he was—in a wholesome, earthy way, Zelos had decided within a few hours of meeting him.  Boyish, expressive, painfully genuine at times but quick to tease, eager to undercut Zelos’s dramatics with banter.

Zelos felt that squirming sensation in his stomach again, and leaned in to nuzzle along Lloyd’s jaw, pressing his lips into the warm dip where it met his neck and feeling him shiver.  “I’ve never met anyone quite like you,” he admitted quietly, probably too sincerely.  “Have some confidence in yourself, honey.  When a paragon of gorgeousness like me tells you that you’re smokin’ hot, you believe it.”

“Goddess, _stop_.”  Lloyd groaned and pushed Zelos’s face playfully to the side, twisting around to escape from underneath him and sit up.  Stripped down to a clingy, sleeveless undershirt Lloyd had more muscle to him than it seemed with his coat on, something only guessed at after a few weeks of fighting alongside him.  Zelos could imagine Lloyd being at home in a whitesmith’s apron, working over a forge, well-toned arms and shoulders glistening with sweat.  He reached out and idly trailed his fingers down the length of Lloyd’s spine, feeling the muscles there shift as he looked back over his shoulder.

Zelos’s stare must have betrayed some of the heat behind that fantasy, because Lloyd became progressively more embarrassed, color rising to his cheeks, and he stood up to stumble over to his pack and dig out some clean clothes, limbs still trembling.  Zelos leaned back against the foot of the bed and smirked, watching him, knowing he looked as good as Lloyd had, hair and clothes in disarray from his hands, flushed and sated, warm now to the tips of his fingers and toes.  Lloyd’s blush seemed to darken every time he glanced over, so Zelos stayed where he was, grinning in self-satisfaction, until Lloyd disappeared into the small connected bathroom to clean up and change.

He was adorable—Zelos thought so, anyway, and the thought made something warm swell in his chest.  That seemed like a potentially dangerous feeling to dwell on, so he got up to find his own change of clothes rather than examine it further.  He’d swapped out for pajamas, stuffed all the dirty clothes he’d stripped off and dragged out of his pack into the laundry bag by the door, retrieved his discarded clothing from where it had been tossed, _and_ replaced the blanket on the bed and tucked himself comfortably under the covers, all by the time Lloyd emerged.  The hair around his face was damp, like he’d splashed himself with water a few times, and his bangs were sticking up awkwardly.

He was probably stalling, Zelos figured, after the extended amount of time he spent fussing with his pack and his laundry, then going around the room, turning down the lamps, banking the fire in the stove, lingering over whatever he could until there was nothing left to do but climb into bed.  Which he did with excessive care, clinging close to the edge of the mattress until Zelos let out an annoyed grumble and wrapped an arm around his waist, dragging him across the sheets until Zelos’s chest was pressed against his back.

“What’s gotten into you?” Zelos muttered, nose pressed against that weird tuft of hair on the back of his head.  “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Lloyd made a muffled noise into the pillow, but also relaxed a bit, moving his arm around awkwardly until Zelos helped him position it correctly alongside his own, with their fingers tangled together.  “I wouldn’t know, I’ve never done anything like this before.”

Zelos hummed in acknowledgement.  Somewhere in the back of his mind he was questioning whether this was really a good idea, if he should really be encouraging Lloyd, if he shouldn’t be allowing some distance to grow back between them after that sudden encounter.  But Lloyd was warm, and he smelled nice, fit perfectly in his arms, and Zelos could still taste him on his lips.  So he settled against him and murmured, “Don’t overthink it.  Just do what feels right.  You’re pretty good at figuring that out.”

Lloyd was silent for another minute, still tense in his shoulders, like the gears in his mind couldn’t stop whirring at full speed.  “Do you really think I’m good-looking?”

“Of course.”  Zelos scoffed a little, partly at being kept awake with redundant questions and partly at the notion that Lloyd was anything _but_ good-looking.  “Why d’you think there are so many gorgeous women flocking around you?  Not to mention _me_.  The company I keep has to be up to my aesthetic standards, you know.”

“Right,” Lloyd murmured, and Zelos wished he could see his face because it was low, sounded a little shy and a little bit pleased.  “Hey,” he said a few breaths later, fingers twitching around Zelos’s, squeezing slightly.  “You never answered me.  Are you okay?”

Zelos nuzzled closer, until he could feel warm skin under his lips, and whispered, “I am now,” and was surprised to discover that he wasn’t lying.

**Author's Note:**

> Please take a moment to leave a comment and let me know what you think!


End file.
